FOR FAWKES SAKE

FOR FAWKES SAKE

it’s November Fifth
centuries ago
my Grandfather (last
in a long line
in his Catholic family)

used to
treat us to fireworks
those boxes that
bore the
warning that they
were bereft
of bangers (crackers to
my Souffafrikan and
my Transatlantic friends)

maybe they sounded
a bit too much like
7.62mm
rounds
     flying out the barrel
of a Maxim machine gun,
Mauser rifle

he who
fought for his King
winning the military cross
(the lower-
grade one
you get as Senior Non-
Commissioned Officer
him
   never been kissed
all of twenty one)

It’s Fifth or November
Twenty First Century, five
and twenty

    no bonfire tonight but
maybe enough time
to rewatch
V
   for Vendetta

amazing how mild
John Hurt’s false-
flagging mild riff on
essential
   English fascism

compared
to the far darker Starmer world
Brits
   have to deal with now